


le mort amoureux

by etoilette



Series: AU-gust 2020 [14]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Deepthroating, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Mindbreak, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Graphic Violence, Overstimulation, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25911940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilette/pseuds/etoilette
Summary: “Please…” he says, before trailing off again, and Akira tightens his grip on his ankles until his nails break skin. He remembers how loudspoken and articulate Akechi had been in the beginning before Akira shattered him into pieces. He isn’t sure if Akechi is pleading with him to stop or to continue, and he doubts Akechi himself knows.As his master though, he knows exactly what Akechi needs.ORHunter Akechi Goro had been the thorn in the side of every vampire in Japan, until one particular vampire lord managed to claim him. No one's seen him since then, and the rumour on the street is that he's dead. Only a select few know of the familiar figure living in the dungeons of Kurusu Akira's mansion.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: AU-gust 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860436
Comments: 10
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapitre I

**Author's Note:**

> Additional TW: talk of gangbang and knotting in the past, non-graphic violence, dick biting, degrading dirty talk. The mindbreak in the tags is technically something that happened in the past as well.
> 
> Written for Day #14 - Vampire AU - for Au-gust! Of course I went ahead and did vampire sex. I'm pretty interested in exploring the past, when Akechi and Akira were actual enemies, or maybe when Akira was breaking in Akechi. There are so many fics that I wrote for AU-gust that I want to continue playing in so it might take me a while to circle back to this one.
> 
> This is the only one of my fics I truly believe to be a plotless pornfic because in my opinion, if I didn't do a whole set-up before the porn, or have at least two scenes where no sex is happening, that's a PWP. It's not bad, but it's probably not something I would want to do again in the future. A big thank you to the people who replied to my "what do you want a vampire to do to you sexually?" Tweet. I'm not entirely sure if any of you guys want to be credited, but hit me up if you do and I'll edit this LOL but I hope you know who you are.

If Akira so wishes to, he could very easily hold Akechi down with only one hand. No matter how strong a human is, there’s no way to win against a vampire lord at full strength when it comes down to sheer physicality. 

It’s even easier to do so when the human has already been bitten, addicted to the numbing sensation of a vampire’s enchanted saliva, brain completely and desperately wanting _more more MORE_. 

He bears down on Akechi, one arm around his waist and one arm planted against his back, as he thrusts deeper and faster into Akechi’s loose hole, careful that he doesn’t break anything and accidentally kill the hunter. Former hunter, he corrects himself. Akechi hasn’t been able to hunt anything for the past six months now, hasn’t even been able to set foot outside of the Kurusu mansion.

Even if Akechi could muster up enough strength to shove Akira off without breaking anything, Akira doubts he would. He’s been moaning and whining like a whore, writhing like a bitch in heat, ever since Akira first tore his clothes off and tossed him onto the table. Akechi’s hips are hitched up so high, Akira practically pounding down into him, that his toes are barely touching the carpeted floor. 

The sedating venom in Akira’s saliva when he forced his tongue into Akechi’s mouth and bit into his neck earlier must still be in effect, because he barely moves at all, though his ass is still tight, clenching down around Akira, sucking him deeper into the delicious heat. 

Akechi squirms languidly and lets out a sharp cry as he convulses, struggling weakly against Akira’s hold as he climaxes yet again. Akira lost count around the thirteenth time, but the tightening around his cock is unmistakable, even though nothing is coming out of Akechi’s tired flaccid dick. He’s been coming dry ever since his third climax, his cum thin and watery from being milked the night prior.

Before Akechi could faint again, Akira angles his penis and slams straight into the prostate, grinding it incessantly until Akechi is sobbing at the overstimulation, his legs kicking up until he’s no longer touching the ground at all. Despite being in the midst of climax, Akira thinks he must have cum again, the heightened pleasure causing him to clamp down around Akira’s dick so tight that if he was anything other than a vampire, he wouldn’t be able to keep moving. 

“Don’t think you can run from me again,” Akira hisses into his ear, making sure his lips brush against the red shell. He knows he’s being unfair, that Akechi’s “escape” earlier had been into unconsciousness when his tenth dry orgasm had knocked him out, his body pliant and slack until Akira fucked him awake to his eleventh. “Take your punishment like a good bitch.”

Akechi’s mouth moves, and Akira moves his ear closer to catch any words that may pass through his trembling lips, but nothing does except tired moaning. 

“Can’t even hear me anymore, huh,” Akira laughs, and he slaps Akechi’s ass, enjoying the way the cheeks jiggle. He had been so much tighter and firm when he was first turned into Akira’s sex slave, his body a weapon of muscles from his long years operating as a vampire hunter, but ever since his descent, he’s become soft. 

He likes it when Akechi talks though, and he slows down, pulling out until only the head is still inside. He moves his hips in a slow circle, allowing the tip to caress the rim, assaulting Akechi with a gentle wave of pleasure unlike the fierce storm earlier. 

It takes a few minutes before Akechi comes back to himself, blinking dazedly as he moves his head to look up at Akira. 

“Master,” he says, his voice faint and confused. He tries to push himself backwards, tries to skewer himself onto Akira’s cock, but he can’t get any momentum. “Master, please,” he whines, voice high with desperation, “please fuck me.”

It’s honestly Akechi’s own fault that Akira has to do this to him. As a dhampyr, Akechi is naturally immune to the hypnotism that vampires use to get their prey pliant and agreeable. He forced Akira’s hand, back when Akechi first showed up before him with a gun and a sword and an ultimatum for Akira to stop terrorizing Shibuya or die.

The fight had been brutal, and Akechi had actually almost succeeded in beheading Akira with a swipe of his sword. If Akira hadn’t made the split second decision to temporarily sacrifice his left arm to block the blow, he would have died, the blade slicing through flesh and muscle and blood as easy as a hot knife through butter. The shock of seeing Akira do such a thing struck Akechi dumb, just long enough for Akira to tackle him to the ground, holding him down with inhuman force before sinking his teeth into his neck.

Akechi’s skill in combat had been what made Akira spare him, giving him a claiming bite to his neck rather than a killing one. He remembers the sweet taste of Akechi’s blood, thick like syrup, filling his mouth, swallowing it eagerly as he used teeth and lips and tongue to coax more out. Akechi had struggled, his strength fading the longer Akira fed, until he went limp and panting in Akira’s arms.

Akira left him alone in the woods, bleeding and weak, trusting that the hunter would be able to survive. A week later, Akechi returned, his face flushed with need and humiliation and something else, as he practically begged for Akira to bite him again.

If Akechi had been susceptible to the hypnotism, then he would have had a much easier time adjusting to being used and owned by a vampire, body desperate for another hit of Akira’s saliva. It really is all his own fault that he’s like this now, fucked stupid, a completely pliant doll for Akira to use and throw around as he wills.

Speaking of “throw around,” Akechi’s had it too calm for a little too long. 

Akira shoves the rest of his dick in, slamming it as deep as it can go, and he feels the hole tighten again, the walls trembling as Akechi’s body is shoved into orgasm again. The only sound he makes is a pained whimper, but Akira doesn’t let him enjoy the sharp pleasure for very long.

He grabs Akechi by his shoulders and hauls the human off the table and onto the carpeted floor, uncaring of how his still-erect penis pops out. The mansion’s chilly air on his wet dick makes him shiver, but he doesn’t have to worry about that for long when he has a willing cocksleeve right in front of him.

But before that…

“You’ve been so good for me, Akechi,” Akira says, pitching his voice low and intimate. He isn’t sure if the words could even penetrate the haze in Akechi’s head, if he could understand anything more than short commands from his master. “Would you like a reward?”

“I…” Akechi says, but he pauses, shakingly curling himself up as he clutches at his head, no doubt trying to fight through the thick fog of arousal. “I don’t…”

Akechi had rolled onto his side, hugging his knees and using his feet as a makeshift barrier for his hole. It’s a poor attempt at modesty, and Akira takes great joy in breaking it down. He grabs Akechi’s ankles and pulls them apart, leering down at his leaking hole and limp dick. 

“Don’t hide yourself,” he hisses. “You’re _mine_.”

There is a claiming bite on Akechi’s inner thigh, high enough that when Akira lowers his head and traces it with his tongue, he can feel Akechi’s balls pressing against his hair. The soft hair must be a maddening sort of stimulation, because Akechi is desperately trying to close his legs around Akira’s head. 

“Please…” he says, before trailing off again, and Akira tightens his grip on his ankles until his nails break skin. He remembers how loudspoken and articulate Akechi had been in the beginning before Akira shattered him into pieces. He isn’t sure if Akechi is pleading with him to stop or to continue, and he doubts Akechi himself knows. 

As his master though, he knows exactly what Akechi needs.

He growls low and sinks his teeth into the claiming mark, drawing blood. Even after months of feeding off of Akechi, the excitement of tasting him turns Akira into the monster that he desperately refuses to be. He laps at it like candy, but he isn’t here to drain Akechi dry. 

Akira kisses up the thigh, uncaring of how the blood from the wound smears across Akechi’s pale skin, until he has his mouth on Akechi’s limp dick. The member is tired and flaccid no matter how much Akira lavishes it with pleasure. He makes sure it’s sloppy, makes sure that Akechi could definitely hear him lick and kiss it, covering every inch of skin with his saliva, even spitting straight into the slit and allowing the liquid to travel down the urethra.

The constant and nonstop orgasms have taken its toll on Akechi’s body, his dick soft even as Akira practically worships it. This time isn’t for Akechi’s pleasure though, so it is of little consequence. He doesn’t give Akechi any warning before he takes the spongy head of Akechi’s dick into his mouth and bites down just under it, allowing his fangs to sink deep into the flesh.

Akechi’s overtaxed muscles seize up and he lets out a keen of pain, his legs too weak to kick or push Akira away. Instead, they paradoxically slump towards the ground, giving Akira easier access as he suckles at the head. It’s silent in the dining room save for Akechi’s shaky sobs of pain and the wet sounds of Akira lapping at the salty-sweet blood. With how deep he sank his teeth into Akechi’s dick, he wonders if the human’s trembling is from fear of having his penis bit off. 

It’s lucky for Akechi that Akira is such a kind master, to allow Akechi to keep his cock even though he’ll never need or use it for the rest of his life.

By the time the bleeding stops and Akira removes Akechi’s dick from his mouth with a wet pop, the human is delirious, practically unconscious. Well, that wouldn’t do at all.

“It’s still too early for sleep, sweetheart,” Akira says, standing up and pulling Akechi with him by his over-long hair. He slaps his face with his erect penis, dirtying it with pre and cum, until Akechi is blinking woozily up at him.

At this point, he’s trained so well that he knows instantly what Akira demands of him with this action. “Feed me, master,” he says, opening his mouth as wide as he can. “Use me. Fill me up.”

“Greedy slut,” Akira growls. He pries Akechi’s jaw open a little bit more with his hand, just because he can, and slides his dick inside, groaning at the warmth. 

Akechi’s ass is so addictive that Akira hasn’t touched any of his slaves other than him outside of feeding time, but his mouth is another thing altogether, tight and wet. The muffled whines and his skilled tongue (experienced after hours of allowing lesser vampires to use his mouth as a fuckhole) send pleasurable vibrations down Akira’s dick and up his spine, and he can feel his breathing speed up with excitement as he starts to thrust, uncaring of how Akechi chokes on it.

He barely pulls out, barely lets Akechi take a breath of fresh air. His face is pressed so close against Akira’s pelvis that anytime he inhales through his nose he must be getting a blast of musk. He abuses the back of Akechi’s throat, and snarls at the pleasure when he feels Akechi swallowing around him, speaking all the while so Akechi knows his place.

“I could be so much worst, Akechi. I could fuck your face until you suffocate, and hang your naked corpse from a telephone pole for everyone to see. The famed Akechi Goro, once the best vampire hunter in all of Japan, turned into a whore all because he’s addicted to a cock up his ass and teeth in his neck.”

Akechi moans and nods his head furiously as best as he can. The motion jars Akira’s, and he lets out a displeased growl, curling his nails in Akechi’s head.

“Stop that,” he snaps, and Akechi does so instantly. Despite the obedience, he doesn’t let go of Akechi’s head as he starts snapping his hips deeper and faster, uncaring of how hard he smashes Akechi’s nose into his pubic hair. 

Even if he breaks it again, he can always use his ass while it’s healing. 

“The next time you defy me, I’ll toss you to the other vampires again. How many cocks did you take that night? Twenty? Thirty? And the werewolves too. You must have cummed over a hundred times that night, your rim so stretched out around the knots that you looked practically pregnant with their pups. The only reason why you’re not used as a breeding slave for them is because of _me_ . Mine to love and pleasure and use. Mine, mine, _mine_.”

He slams in as deep as he can as he climaxes, the head so far down Akechi’s throat that even from his angle he could see the bulge in his neck, the tears streaming down his face from the pleasure and the loss of oxygen. 

Akira has orgasmed almost ten times that night as well, but unlike Akechi, he can still cum, and he does so liberally down his throat, painting everything in thick white. He can feel Akechi swallowing around him but he doesn’t really need to, with how deep Akira has shoved himself into him. 

The pleasure is a white heat through his body and he tosses his head back, moaning loud and unabashedly. There is no shame in his indulgence, and even if Akechi is the type of person to judge, he’s too far gone now to notice. His russet-brown eyes are rolled back, staring sightlessly up at Akira without seeming to acknowledge him, and his entire face is pale from blood loss and oxygen deprivation. 

He hasn’t finished ejaculating yet but Akira unsheathes himself from Akechi quickly, dirtying his face with cum until thick strands drip off his eyelashes even. 

Akechi starts to raise his hands to his face to start cleaning himself off like a good dog, but Akira says gently, “Hold on, pet.”

His own hands are shaking somewhat from the last tinges of his peak but he fights through it to snag his forgotten phone on the dining table. Aiming the camera at Akechi, he takes pictures from multiple angles. Without even being ordered to, Akechi raises up his fingers in a shaky peace sign, just like Akira taught him to. 

“I’ll upload this onto social media so everyone can see what a whore you are now,” he says, even though he has no intention of letting anyone other than himself and his associates see Akechi in this state. “Vampire hunter, my ass. How can you call yourself that when you’re nothing more than a mindbroken fucktoy.”

It’s a rhetorical question, but Akechi nods furiously. “I really am, master. Please use me. Please feed on me.” He tilts his head to the side, exposing his bitten neck as he continues to beg, using every word he can just to get Akira’s teeth on him once more.

When Akira first dominated Akechi and placed him under his spell, Akechi had fought him the entire time. The addiction didn’t alter his mental state - he was still _Akechi_ under the need. He could remember Akechi’s denials, the way he refused to succumb to the pleasure even as Akira practically assaulted his body with it, drowning him aphrodisiacs until Akechi forgot his own name. It had been a fun challenge, to see how long it would take him before he could have Akechi willingly begging to be filled again, begging for Akira’s cock in his mouth or his ass.

The broken husk of Akechi Goro at his feet no longer excites him as much as it did in the beginning, when Akechi, worn down, started a session by dropping to his knees and immediately lavishing Akira’s dick with kisses and kitten licks. 

He strokes his hair anyway, cupping Akechi’s face and pulling him close to press a soft and chaste kiss against the claiming bite on his neck, feeling the thrumming pulse underneath the smooth skin. 

“You don’t get to boss me around,” Akira murmurs into his ear, wondering if Akechi could hear him underneath the haze. “Not you.”

Gentler now that the blinding arousal has been sated, he lowers Akechi face-down onto the carpet once again, hitching his waist up so that his back was a graceful slope. The break from Akira’s furious fucking was enough to return Akechi’s sensitivity to normal, and he lets out a debauched moan as Akira pushes himself in once more.

At sunset, Akira has to leave for his duties as the vampire lord of Tokyo. But until then, he wants to lose himself even further in Akechi’s unresisting body, wants to take and own and conquer until everyone knows that Akechi is _his._

There are still four hours.


	2. Chapitre II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall of Akechi Goro, once the best vampire hunter in Japan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please go to end notes for further TW/tags that aren't big enough to go into tags, as well as some other notes. If I missed any tags, please tell me (respectfully).

It’s rare for Goro specifically to be called upon to deal with a vampire, considering his notoriously high rates and difficult personality made him somewhat of a disliked hunter in the community. But when it comes to a vampire as deadly as Kurusu Akira, there was no price too high for the government of Tokyo.

“I hear he’s killed all of the hunters who were sent after him,” Sumire says to him over the phone. He can hear her worry through the static of the speaker, and he can’t bite back the derisive scoff in time.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says. “Just worry about killing your sister.”

“She’s not my sister anymore,” Sumire says, though her tone is soft and unsure. She’s always been gentle and had Goro not been pulled away from her side for the top priority job of exterminating Kurusu, he would’ve tried to be there to make sure she does the job right. 

It’s always a shame when a fellow hunter falls onto the other side. In Goro’s opinion, the most respectful thing to do is put them down before they can do any serious damage.

“Akechi-senpai, just be careful, alright?” Sumire pleas. “If I lose you on top of Kasumi, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Goro snaps. “I’ll call you when I’m done and I better hear that your sister is dead when I do.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for Sumire to answer before he ends the call. 

There is a castle, hidden away by glamour, in the woods of Inokashira Park outside of the main hubbub of Tokyo. It’s close enough to Tamamitsu Shrine that less experienced hunters wouldn’t expect a creature of the night to stay in that area. From Goro’s research, the hunters who did manage to pin down Kurusu’s territory were never seen again. Whether because they were eaten or suffered a fate worse than death is unknown.

Goro stocks up with enchanted bullets, normal bullets, and wards of all types. There’s no plan beyond “go in and murder the son of a bitch” and Goro has never needed one, considering his experience and biology. 

It only takes him about ten minutes of making his way through the forested park before he feels the pressure spike in the air, and the hair on the back of his neck stand in anticipation. He spins and shoots a bullet towards the trees, and watches as a shadow descends from the branches. 

When he read about the feats and accomplishments of Kurusu Akira, he had imagined someone more imposing. Maybe someone taller, with a muscular figure, and with tattoos all over their pale skin. It’s a very strange image to conjure, considering Goro’s killed vampires who looked no older than ten years old, but the tales of Kurusu’s gruesome murders had always painted him in the most dangerous light.

Yet, when he looks at Kurusu now, he wouldn’t be surprised to see him walking around a university campus. He’s tall -- around Goro’s height -- with messy black hair, and an oddly soft and effeminate face. The only thing that betrays his inhuman nature is in the dark crimson of his feline-like eyes, and the faintest hint of a fang peeking out from his lush lips.

He’s unfairly attractive, but vampire glamour has uses beyond simply disguising hideouts and serving as a shield against sunlight. It’s entirely possible that Kurusu’s true form is something completely different.

“Kurusu Akira, I assume,” Goro says. He raises his gun and shoots it, aiming right at the heart.

Kurusu dodges to the side effortlessly, and the two of them watch as the bullet buries itself into the trunk of the tree behind him.

“Where are you from?” Kurusu asks genially. “It’s a bit rude to shoot someone before even introducing yourself, don’t you think?”

“My name is Akechi Goro. Thank you for the lesson in manners. I don’t suppose you’ll ever need to worry about etiquette ever again, though.”

The gun is useless against someone with Kurusu’s agility, and he shoves it into his holster, drawing his sword instead and rushing Kurusu. His own strength and speed are not traits that he usually prefers thinking about, considering he only has them due to his dhampyr heritage, but a large part of Goro’s success as a hunter is in the surprise brutality of his attacks.

But Kurusu simply dodges once more, and he grabs onto Goro’s wrist, shoving Goro away as if Goro is nothing more than a mischievous puppy. 

“You’re fast for a human,” he notes, a vague hint of surprise in his voice. “Or, wait…”

Kurusu reaches out for him again, but Goro jumps back, swiping out with his sword. “Don’t touch me again, scum,” he hisses. He rips the gun out of its holster and shoots at Kurusu, watching without much surprise as the vampire simply dodges it.

The red in Kurusu’s eyes gleam as he stares into Goro’s face, and Goro meets them unflinchingly, his head held high and proud as he allows the vampiric hypnotism to wash through his mind. It’s disgusting, as if there are worms crawling over his brain, but he’s seen vampires let down their guard when they see their powers fail on a perceived human. 

No matter how powerful or experienced a fighter Kurusu is, he doubts that even he’s had the chance to face off against a dhampyr before.

But Kurusu’s expression, to Goro’s shock, only fills with a sort of gleeful satisfaction.

“I knew it,” he says smugly. “As soon as I saw you, I figured you probably weren’t completely human, and you proved that yourself just now. You’re a dhampyr, aren’t you?”

Goro doesn’t grace it with a reply, but he doesn’t need to. The confidence in Kurusu’s question is unwavering. If possible, Kurusu looks even more delighted by the revelation.

“How rare! And you decided to work as a hunter? There must be a fascinating story there. Why don’t you tell me some more?”

“As if I’d say anything to a monster like you.”

Kurusu shrugs theatrically. “Hopefully you’ll be more talkative later,” he sighs.

Goro tries to stab the sword towards Kurusu’s chest, and Kurusu knocks the weapon away. Kurusu strikes back, his clawed hand ready to rip out Goro’s throat, but Goro dodges, tilting his body back until he backflips. He kicks out with a steel boot, only for Kurusu to knock that away as well.

Most of the time, he never gets the chance to exercise any of his actual combat prowess. He simply destroys his targets too quickly for them to _do_ much of anything more than a beheading or an execution shot.

It’s the most fun he’s had in a long while, and he knows that there’s a stupidly large grin on his face. That his professional veneer has finally been ripped away. He can see a matching one on Kurusu as well, and with his lips drawn in a smile, he can see every sharp tooth in Kurusu’s mouth.

Goro crouches low and feints a high kick towards Kurusu’s chin. The vampire falls for it, backing up and when he takes the first step, Goro lashes out with the sword, aimed right for Kurusu’s neck. It’s a clean hit -- Kurusu isn’t prepared to defend himself, and unbalanced as he is, he can’t dodge the attack completely. 

It’s his win.

Blood splatters against the forest floor and Goro can’t help the surprised gasp as his sword cleaves through flesh and muscle and bone. And yet, he still sees Kurusu’s face grinning at him, rather than on the ground where it belongs. Instead, lying in a pool of blood on the dirt is Kurusu’s arm. 

The moment of hesitation is all Kurusu needs to kick out Goro’s legs from under him, causing him to fall to the ground and onto the back. Before he can push himself back up to his feet, he feels a heavy foot slam down on his sternum, almost cracking the bone.

“Agh!” Goro coughs. Nothing comes up at the very least, but he can’t pull in enough oxygen or work up the strength to knock Kurusu off. 

“You were so close,” Kurusu says. He laughs breathlessly, his voice just a tinge too hysterical, and Goro wonders if the vampire is feeling fear or excitement over how close he had been to death. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way in my entire life.”

“Kill me,” Goro snaps. “You won.”

Kurusu leans down to pick up the arm, and in doing so, he bears his weight down even harder on Goro’s body. Goro kicks out uselessly, clawing against the dirt as he tries to work air back into his lungs. He can feel his heart beating frantically against his ribs. For a second, he wonders if Kurusu plans on stepping clean through his body, but before he can entertain that thought further, Kurusu straightens up again with a cocky smile on his face.

Slowly and purposefully, Kurusu places his disembodied arm back against the stump and presses it there, looking smugly at the blood dripping down from where the cut had been. Within seconds, the wound starts to patch itself up, and when Kurusu takes his hand away, the arm is back in place as if nothing even happened.

“I've heard that I could place limbs back onto my body but looks like it wasn’t an urban legend, after all,” Kurusu says, as if they’re having a normal conversation over lunch. “Now, what should I do with you?”

“Kill me,” Goro repeats.

“It would be such a shame, though,” Kurusu sighs. He takes his foot off of Goro but before Goro could even think of pushing himself up, he lies his body over Goro’s, his legs tightening around Goro’s waist. Despite his slim frame, it’s as if he’s an immovable iron statue on Goro’s torso. “Why in the world would I kill the only interesting human I’ve seen in centuries?”

Kurusu places his hands on Goro’s clothes and rips through it easily, uncaring of the belts and engraved corset. Buttons bounce against the forest floor, and Goro’s face flushes when he feels the cold air brush against his bare skin, his nipples hardening under Kurusu’s appreciative gaze.

“You’re already so eager to get started,” Kurusu taunts, running a finger down Goro’s chest, lingering over Goro’s heart. “So excited. I hear that I’m a very desirable lover, so I’m not surprised to see that.”

Goro’s only answer is a glare. If Kurusu thinks he would debase himself and beg for his life, he’s sorely mistaken.

“Do you even know what I’m about to do to you?” Kurusu asks, sounding genuinely curious. “Do you have any idea what’s going to happen to you?”

“If you think I’ll let myself get turned into a bloodsucking monster like you, you have another thing coming,” Goro snarls. 

Kurusu’s only reply is a chuckle as he lowers his head closer towards Goro’s cheek and brushes his nose against it, as if he could scent the blood through there. 

“That would be fun. It’s always a laugh to see hunters turn into the very monster they swore to hunt, but it’s even more entertaining when I turn them into my slave, brainwashing them into begging for my cock.”

His deep and rich voice echoes in Goro’s ear and he twists his face away when he feels the dry brush of Kurusu’s lips against him, travelling from his cheek to behind the ear, where he feels the sharp sting of a fang against the sensitive skin there.

“It’s your fault that I’m going to have to do this to you, you know. Normally I keep it to hypnotism, but since it doesn’t work on you, I’m going to have to use another method.”

“Wh--?” he tries, before he feels a strong hand clasp itself against his head, holding him in place as Kurusu moves towards his neck. A warm and wet puff of air against the sensitive skin on his pulse point is the only warning he gets before Kurusu opens his mouth and sinks in his teeth.

Pain erupts from his neck and sears throughout his body, and he can’t bite back the scream in time. He writhes on the ground, trying desperately to claw away, but Kurusu is almost ridiculously powerful and heavy.

He kicks against Kurusu’s back as best as he can, and he tries to angle his sword so that he can stab Kurusu through the neck. But he can’t work up any strength from his angle, and he can feel his energy seeping fast. Kurusu is practically inhaling his blood through the deep cuts in his neck, and he can feel his vision white out.

“You’re a naughty one, aren’t you,” Kurusu says playfully, his breath hot against his oversensitive neck. Goro winces and tries to move away but Kurusu’s grip tightens on him until he feels something in his bones creak like a rusted machine. “Still feisty even after all that I drank.”

As easily as snapping a toothpick, Kurusu snatches up Goro’s sword and breaks it with a clenched fist. He doesn’t manage it without garnering himself a slice in the palm of his hand, the blood dripping down his wrist and splattering against Goro’s bare chest. If it caused Kurusu any sort of pain, his smiling face doesn’t betray it at all.

“Shut the hell up, creep,” Goro snaps weakly. Kurusu isn’t known for keeping any of his victims alive -- both hunters and townspeople had been found completely drained of their blood and no one had gone missing. 

At the very least, Goro knows that no matter what happens, this encounter will end in one way. It’s just a matter of when, and if he can land any blow on Kurusu, no matter how inconsequential, he can die knowing that he wasn’t some easy sort of prey.

“If you really want me to do something with my mouth, then I have a good idea of what to do,” Kurusu says, sounding way too pleased with himself, before he places his mouth back against Goro’s neck. 

As opposed to the vicious and violent drinking of before, he’s almost gentle now, sucking a love bite around the injury, sloppy and wet and loud in Goro’s ear. Kurusu teases Goro’s skin with his tongue, lavishing it with broad and warm strokes, until Goro shudders. His breath comes faster -- whether out of blood loss or the sensations crawling down his spine, he isn’t completely sure -- and he feels his body growing heavier by the second. 

By the time Kurusu moves away, Goro doesn’t think he can even raise his arm anymore, and he watches, panting, as Kurusu’s face appears in his field of vision, pressing his reddened lips against Goro’s. The stench and taste of blood fills his mouth as Kurusu probes inside, pressing his tongue against Goro’s and exploring the soft palate near the back of Goro’s throat. 

He tries to bite down but he can’t draw enough strength into his jaw, and he feels Kurusu moan at the light nips. The vibration of the sound makes Goro twitch with unwanted pleasure and by the time Kurusu releases him, he can already feel the darkness encroaching in his vision.

“I hope you find me agreeable, Akechi Goro,” he hears Kurusu say. “Otherwise you’re not going to have a very good time down the line.”

 _I think you’re a degenerate pervert_ , Goro wants to say, but he can’t get the words out past the heaviness of his tongue. He watches through hooded eyes as Kurusu disappears into the shadow with a dark laugh that echoes in the forest, and that’s the last thing he sees.

He’s not sure when he comes to, but he’s still alive somehow, despite the forest teeming with creatures who would have no qualms with eating and killing an unconscious human. Goro pushes himself to his feet, his arms and legs shaking so badly he almost face-plants back into the loam. Using his broken sword as a makeshift cane, and the weight of his gun in his belt as a tether to consciousness, he makes his way out of the forest and back into town. 

X

“Fuck,” Goro hisses as he works his hand up and down his shaft. He isn’t entirely sure if the oil he uses for polishing his weapon is safe for human skin but at this point, he doesn’t care. As long as he can use it as a lube, it’s fair game. The smooth friction of his hand against the sensitive heat of his skin sends sparks through his body and he can’t stop.

It’s been two days since Goro left the forest and holed himself up in the hostel room he rented when he first arrived in Kichijoji. He’s received over thirty calls from Sumire, and over a hundred missed texts from her and a multitude of other hunters. It’s hard to focus on returning those messages when he can barely think about anything other than the overwhelming heat constantly coursing through his veins.

The grip that Goro has on his dick is too rough and hard to be pleasurable under normal circumstances, and he sinks his nail into the slit, uncaring of whether or not he leaves scratches on the delicate skin or not.

He comes within seconds, the molten heat of pained pleasure coursing through his body, and he convulses in his bed, arching his back as he bites back a scream. The walls in the hostel are paper-thin, and the occupants next door can probably tell what he’s doing just from the sound of the springs alone, but he still has his pride. Or at least, he thought so until an involuntary whine bubbles up from his throat. 

The pleasure doesn’t abate, and instead continues to grow, as even after his climax, the heat refuses to leave his body. If anything, it seems to grow worse. He keeps moving his hand up and down. He only knows when he climaxes again when he feels cum leak out from his tip, and the sensatiin amplifies until even his hand resting on his dick makes him choke with pain. 

He trembles with the effort, but when he stops, the maddening itch comes back tenfold. When he reaches up with his hand to brush his fingers lightly against the healing wound in his neck, he feels a pleasure so hot that it feels like he’d been bitten by a hornet. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers again. “Fuck. _God_.” 

Goro’s dick is raw and red at this point, limp and flaccid even though there is a thin stream of _something_ still trickling out. It’s less like he’s cumming and more like his bodily fluids are being forced out, leaving him feeling even more empty and bereft than ever. He knows what his body craves but he’d rather die than go crawling back to that man. 

Vaguely, through the addling fog in his head, he can hear the angry pounding on the walls and door. 

“Hey, assface,” he hears, “why don’t you jerk off quieter? Not everyone in town wants to hear what you sound like in heat!”

Goro has half a mind to crawl out of bed and open the door to let them in, begging them and their buddies to fuck him until he’s so full of cum that he can’t possibly feel the empty itch inside of him anymore. He grips his neck and scratches deep into the bite that Kurusu left on him -- still raw and open despite the amount of salve and medicine Goro rubbed into the injury.

 _No_ , he thinks to himself angrily. He’s the best hunter in Japan, not some common whore. It takes a considerable effort for him to move his hand away from his dick, and despite the fact that he had been stroking it for the past day or so, it’s still pulsing with need. He grabs the headboard of the bed and pulls himself up.

With all the strength he has left, he slams his head against the wall of the room until he passes back down onto the mattress.

X 

When Goro was training to be a hunter, one of the first lessons drilled into him had been to avoid any internal contact with vampire saliva. It doesn’t matter if the contact occurred through a bite or a kiss or anything else. One dose of the incredibly potent and addictive aphrodisiac, and it’s essentially over for a human.

He’s read of cases where vampires managed to drive people insane with lust and need for a bite, of afflicted humans simply throwing themselves at the feet of the vampires that bit them. Some killed themselves, and others simply resigned themselves to life as a slave to the vampire, working their hands to the bone just for another hit of a vampire’s kiss.

At the time, Goro had thought it particularly stupid advice. Who in their right mind would kiss a vampire? What kind of vampire wouldn’t drain a human into a lifeless husk as soon as it sank its fangs into one? It had seemed like a situation that would simply never happen. 

Goro lies on the bed now, his body on fire, feeling wretched and out of his mind. He’s sweated and ejaculated so much at this point that he thinks the mattress is permanently stained. He can’t stop thinking about the sinuous wet of Kurusu’s tongue on his neck. Can’t stop imagining how it would feel to soothe the constant heat in his body with the cooling venom of Kurusu’s saliva. 

He carries a chained collar with him for the few jobs where he has to take the monster in alive rather than dead, and he supposes there is nothing stopping him from simply tying himself to the bedpost in case he ever gives into the temptation. His head throbs from constantly bashing it against the wall to avoid touching himself again, and his body aches from nonstop climaxes.

His phone lays dead on the bedside table, and he stares at it as if it can save him from the pit he’s found himself in. But it remains dead to the world, silent and dark. 

Kurusu’s territory is the forest of Inokashira Park, close to his hostel in Kichijoji. It would take him twenty minutes at the very most to get there. It wasn’t hard to find him in the first place, and he had seemed genuinely interested in wanting to see Goro again. If Goro were to go now, then it would only be a matter of time before he can get --

Before he even actively thinks about it, he reaches down into his pants and strokes himself to soothe the sudden throbbing arousal that shoots through his body. The heat had always been _there_ , but the thought of Kurusu putting his mouth and hands on him again amped it up so much that he felt like he could come right then and there. 

He wants to feel Kurusu and taste Kurusu so bad, wants to --

He breaks on the fifth day and places the chains around his neck, tying himself to the bedposts. It’s secure enough that he can’t possibly tear himself free without doing irrevocable damage to his own body. 

Every time his mind travels to Kurusu once more and his arms start to drift downwards towards his body, the chains pull taut in a painful way. Every time he absentmindedly finds himself starting to get off the bed to make his way into the forest, the chains keep him bound to the mattress, where all he does to pass the time is stare up at the ceiling. 

It’s the worst form of torture imaginable, but there’s something worse awaiting him if he doesn’t stay strong now. A vampire hunter, forced to live life as a slave to a vampire? Desecrated and defiled until the vampire gets bored of him? It sounds like the worst (the most amazing) thing that he could ever imagine.

Goro lets out a primal screech of rage as his thoughts start to cloud. The worst case scenarios become temptations of the most egregious kind, and he can’t get enough momentum to slam his head against the back of the bed hard enough to knock himself out. He can hear pounding again -- whether from his neighbours or from his skull, he doesn’t know -- and for a long while, all he knows is pain.

He isn’t completely sure when he pulled the chains with enough force to completely crack the bedpost, and when he comes to, he’s seated on the ground, covered in a puddle of his own filth and cum, his chained hands still furiously rubbing his dick raw.

The last time Goro cried was when his mother died, drained until she was as gaunt as a mummy by his disgusting blood-sucking excuse of a father. He still remembers how the tears had flowed endlessly down his face as he clutched at his mother’s body, and how he had cried himself to sleep endlessly until someone from the Hunter Association showed up to whisk him and the body away.

It’s a testimony to Goro’s strength that he had never cried since that day, no matter how many tragedies he witnesses and experiences; no matter how difficult his training was or his work is. He sits now, as miserable as he had been that fateful night long ago, and even though he bites his lips so hard he can feel the sharp tang of blood running down his chin, he can’t stop the tears from flowing.

X

Inokashira Park is about the same as when he visited last time. The pale of the moon casts the trees into shadows but Goro doesn’t feel any fear or apprehension from the sight. He throws down his bags and hefts his gun into the air, shooting twice. 

It doesn’t take long before he sees the familiar shadow of Kurusu Akira descend from the sky, and even without looking, he can see his all-knowing smirk. It’s infuriating, even now, but Goro’s mouth waters against his will at the thought of getting those lips onto him again.

“A week is longer than I thought you would last, to be honest,” Kurusu says, and Goro hates himself for how he perks up immediately, like he’s a dog waiting for its owner’s command. “Most humans don’t last more than a day before they come crawling back.” 

_I’m not like most humans. I’m the best hunter in Japan._

Goro wants to say those words. Wants to say those words so fucking bad, because they’re true. Were true. Still are, in a way. He worked for that title, trained until he was the best and everyone in the world knew it. All of it torn away within seconds. 

He wants to trick himself and Kurusu into thinking that it’s a long con of sorts. That he’s going to eventually kill Kurusu after making him lower his guard. But his hands can’t stop shaking, and his body can’t stop aching, and by god if Kurusu doesn’t touch him, he thinks he’ll --

He drops the gun and the sword and kicks them away, knowing that Kurusu is tracking them with interest. Goro isn’t a hundred percent sure what he should do in this kind of situation, but he falls to his needs and bares his neck.

“For you,” he says, his voice weak and hoarse from a week of animalistic screaming rather than any actual words. “All of me is for you, Akira. Master.”

The last thing Akechi Goro knows before Kurusu bears down on him and crushes him into the ground, cold hand down his pants and hot mouth on his neck, is the sense of content fulfillment, like he’s finally found his rightful place in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional TW: imagined Mob/Goro, reference to pee, suicide mention
> 
> Thank you to [mopgoro-senpai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousmop/pseuds/anonymousmop) for the suggestion of Goro tying himself up to the bed. It was SO SEXY....


End file.
